


Out of Time

by spideysmjs



Category: Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse (2018)
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Heavy Angst, Implied Sexual Content, Missing Scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-16 01:35:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,659
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29445660
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spideysmjs/pseuds/spideysmjs
Summary: She knows she shouldn’t feel selfish. He’s a superhero. Things happen. She gets it. If there’s anyone else in the world that does, it’s MJ.But would it kill him to stop making promises he can’t keep?Into the Spider-Verse, but make it MCU Spideychelle.
Relationships: Michelle Jones/Peter Parker
Comments: 18
Kudos: 31





	Out of Time

**Author's Note:**

  * For [coykoi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/coykoi/gifts).



> Everyone say "Thank you, Jill."
> 
> Based of "Kisses" Prompts:
> 
> 20\. Kissing in a stairwell, giving them an artificial height difference.  
> 39\. Kissing tears from the other’s face.

Their dinner is cut short, but Michelle—like after all the other ridiculous interruptions that occur when you’re dating New York’s friendly neighborhood Spider-Man—is 100% used to it. She doesn’t know how she feels about that.

Peter signs the receipt, tossing the pen haphazardly onto the table, so carelessly that it bounces out of its check plate. MJ sucks in her lips, holding back from scolding him for not having proper etiquette. It’s a mom and pop shop anyway, and they’re the only guests that come every Tuesday night after she clocks out of her office job.

The emergency isn’t an emergency, more so a slew of new intel from S.H.I.E.L.D. regarding Fisk’s master plan, and the reason why there was a strange “earthquake” the struck the city a few days ago. There’d been more and more, slowly coming in—not enough for the general audience to be suspicious that there are earthquakes in _New York City_ , but enough for Peter to get caught up in the situation.

MJ pushes herself out of the chair as she grabs their leftovers, following Peter like she’s lost like she doesn’t know what’s going on even though he tells her everything. He’s walking ahead of her, zooming out the door. She’s always made a big deal that she can hold doors open for herself, ever since high school, but for some reason when Peter lets the door close before she can grab the handle, the tension in her jaw builds up.

Peter’s preoccupied, scrolling through his phone for the details that have just been airdropped to him, MJ hearing him mutter something about the need to stop Fisk before his next attempt to do whatever the hell he’s been doing—opening up a portal, or whatever, to access a universe. She hears all of this physics speak that MJ hasn’t educated herself on since high school, and although she knows she should listen, her heart is angry. It’s squeezing tight, beating face, and it feels like Peter can’t even hear it even though he always points it out.

Not this time.

The breeze in the air feels sharp, MJ shivering not only at the wind but at the fact that Peter wants to hijack the location that S.H.I.E.L.D. dropped—Fisk’s secret lair where he’s been collaborating with Alchemex for his plan. She hears Peter mumble curses and insults beneath his breath.

“Insulting him isn’t going to stop him,” MJ says.

Peter almost stops walking, his feet getting mixed up as he moves forward. “I know, but–“

“But nothing. Just focus on the science of it. And not your quips.”

“Okay,” he hesitates. “Let’s get home faster, so I can map out a strategy.”

“Fine,” she says. She’s walking as fast as she can. Peter didn’t bring his web-shooters tonight because it was supposed to be their special date of the month. Peter didn’t bring his suit because he’s the one that promised tonight would be peaceful.

MJ didn’t believe it when he first swore to her but confirming that she’d been right hurt more than anything else. She grips the plastic bag of untouched food even tighter. Her head hurts from working in front of a computer today, and her heart hurts for feeling selfishly ignored by Peter on their own date.

She knows she shouldn’t feel selfish. He’s a superhero. Things happen. She gets it. If there’s anyone else in the world that does, it’s MJ.

But would it kill him to stop making promises he can’t keep?

Her arms are crossed against her chest, head down, facing the concrete of the sidewalk as she counts the spots from blackened, chewing gum that never gets clean. Peter’s only a few feet ahead of her, but tonight, he’s lightyears away.

She’s been feeling this for a while––ever since Fisk came into the picture, ever since Peter had been blamed for his family’s death despite MJ understanding that Peter had zero faults in it. He still blames himself, as he does with every death that comes his way, his guilt complex higher than any man she’s ever known.

His insecurities flood into every aspect of his life, and MJ takes it because she doesn’t what to lash out on Peter––the bounty of responsibility on him is almost untouchable by anyone else aside from him. She tries to understand him, every single time, ever since she’d outed him on the bridge in Europe, ever since she caught him in his arms after defeating Mysterio those many years ago.

MJ holds his grief inside her, balancing his emotions with her own, and sometimes, releasing her fears and insecurities into the void, pushing them far down, so she can merely focus on being his heroine. Yet, sometimes, much like tonight—much like the past few weeks—she can’t push away her own thoughts.

They’re invasive. They tell her to do something, say something to Peter so that he doesn’t forget that—although she understands him, although she’s repeated multiple times that she’d put her own safety on the line for him—she is still just as human as the next person.

Timing has never been her best trait, so when they reach the entrance of their apartment building, she snaps.

“Peter, you don’t have to go tonight.”

Before he can enter their code into the keypad, his shoulder slouches and he throws his head back like he’d been expecting her to say something all this time. “MJ, you know–"

“I do. I do know. So you don’t have to repeat it.” She reaches out for his hand, only for him to flinch. She doesn’t try again after that. In a weak voice, she says, “Peter…”

“Look,” he says, turning around to face her. He towers over her, the two steps in the stairwell to their apartment building shoving worlds between them. “I… I can’t just wait until something else happens, Em. There have been so many clues that are unraveling themselves. They’re going to do something tonight, I know it.”

“S.H.I.E.L.D. said to wait for backup. You said that yesterday.”

“I know, but that was yesterday,” Peter says, running his hand through the back of his neck, rubbing it the way he does when he’s stressed, out of words or feelings other than frustration and fear. “Today– _tonight_ -is different.”

“How is it any different?”

“Because Fisk is going to do something! And all of Brooklyn is going to fall into a wormhole!” He tosses his arms out in the air, angry—not at MJ, never at MJ. But that doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt her just as much as if it was towards her. Peter grabs his phone from his pocket, unlocks it, and allows her to scroll through the intel. “He’s got everyone helping him. Norman, Liv, _everyone.”_

“And you have no one.”

A beat. Peter curls his lips. “I have you.”

“I can’t help you.”

“But you can support me, MJ.”

“I do support you,” she says, no longer holding back. He takes one step down, but he still towers over her, a feeling that MJ’s not used to. She’s never felt smaller, more helpless knowing that whatever she says—whatever she _tries_ to say—will never convince Peter to wait it out. “It’s just not safe, Pete.”

He chuckles. “When has anything I’ve ever done _safe_?”

He shoves his hands in his pocket, waiting for an answer that MJ can’t give him. “I just don’t have a good feeling, and I also feel like you’re not hearing me.”

“I hear you.”

“Then you’re not listening."

“MJ.”

“Peter.” Her voice starts to tremble. Her lips are shaking. She curls them, biting down and sucking her cheek, even though the tears begin to fall helplessly.

“You don’t understand.”

She scoffs, and through tears that she can no longer fight—tears that Peter will certainly notice—she retorts, “I think out of all fucking people, Peter, I understand.”

“Oh,” she hears him slip out of his breath. Oh is right, even if MJ wishes she was wrong. “Michelle.”

He brings one hand on her shoulder pulling her face, her cheek pressed against his chest. He kisses the top of her head, pulling away briefly as he says, “I’m sorry.”

“Sorry doesn’t do anything for me anymore, Peter.”

“I know.” He pulls her in closer, a tight embrace that only shatters her heart more. “I’m still sorry though.” She sniffles. Silence looms over them like the moonlight in the dark, evening sky. “I still have to go tonight."

“I know.”

And that’s what hurts the most.

That she knows, she knows, she _knows_ , but she can’t help her anger.

MJ hopes Peter, at least, knows that.

He lets go of their embrace, his voice cracking as he admits, “I’m sorry that I can’t be the perfect man for you, MJ. But I have to do this.”

“Peter,” she whispers. “Don’t say that.”

“It’s true.” His legs are shaking from anticipation, anxiety that he’s not moving as fast as he can to get to Fisk to potentially stop him.

Will it kill MJ to say _let’s talk about this later?_

“Let’s head upstairs… so you can at least… get ready,” she says.

He lifts her chin up, kissing her—this kiss being the first time she’d go on her tiptoes to meet his lips. It’s a strange feeling, but at least MJ feels less small because he steps down from the staircase and pulls her in closer as her arms start to wrap around his neck, the plastic bag of food hitting his back.

Their kiss is fast and slow all at once like time has stopped for them to have this one moment before he goes off into what feels like a _war,_ the only thing stopping MJ from feeling at peace with his mission is that she knows time will keep going.

The world is still spinning, even if it feels like their kiss is happening in slow motion. And even though this kiss feels slow, that the night feels young, that there’s a sliver of hope in her heart she’ll wake up feeling okay about this mission—it doesn’t feel like those romantic movies that he begs her to watch.

Her heart is breaking as his tears fall to her lips, the taste of salt in her mouth.

Finally, their lips part and he nods his head to the door. She silently accepts and follows him.

The way up to their apartment is silent.

The elevator ride is mute, save for the annoying music that chimes through for the twenty seconds they’re in it, waiting for the doors to open again.

He unlocks the door, his pace much slower than when they’d left the restaurant.

Peter is the first to speak. “MJ, I’m sorry. I’m sorry being with me can’t ever be right all the time. I’m sorry tonight wasn’t perfect."

“Peter, don’t.”

It isn’t about him. She never started this because she was angry at _him._ He doesn’t deserve to have another thing on his list of what makes him drown with an ocean of guilt.

MJ closes the door behind her, and now when she reaches for his hand, he doesn’t flinch. He lets their fingers intertwine until she spins him around.

She asks “Will there never be a day when everything feels right?”

He laughs a painful, throaty thing. “I guess not. It doesn’t help that I’m not the best person out there. Always distracted always chasing a case or–”

“I’m with you because I love you, Peter.” She pulls him closer, placing both hands on his face after dropping the to-go bag onto the table. “I love you for everything you are you, for everything you think you’re not.”

He sniffles as she places a kiss on his cheek, the skin feeling damp on her lips because of his tears. “Distracted or not, chasing a case or not, you’re my lover. I need you to know that.”

Then, she embraces him again, her legs automatically jumping to surround his waist as he lifts her up, supporting her. He slips his tongue in her mouth, both of them chasing some kind of reprieve, some kind of happiness as if tonight is different from the other times he’s left for patrol.

Tonight—the thing with Fisk, the risk of the rift in the space-time continuum—is something bigger than her, bigger than the both of them.

But, as she squeezes her legs tighter around him, as he bucks his hips up against her center, she knows one thing.

Peter and MJ are always going to be out of time.

That’s how it is.

That’s how she will accept it to be.

And Peter seems to understand this, too, because he stops everything to carry her into the bedroom, to lay her softly against their mattress, grinding down against her as his mouth sucks at the skin where her collarbone meets her neck.

She whispers I love you a million times into the night.

He says it back, not just with his words but with his kisses peppering her skin.

Time is frozen— _t_ _hey_ are making time freeze. _They’re_ the ones savoring the moment, choosing to show each other how they feel, to show each other that in so many lifetimes, they’ll always savor the moment and choose each other.

And as they continue to explore their bodies, MJ forgets about her insecurities in their relationship. It isn’t the way Peter’s mouth against her arousal that makes her forget; it’s not because of that all. It’s because she knows that, despite everything, their hearts are tied together with a string that will never break.

She comes back from cleaning herself up in the bathroom, Peter shifting in bed as he gears up for the night.

They share a gaze that holds for what feels like an eternity.

She nods, understanding. She always understands.

“I love you,” he says, pressing the spider emblem on his suit.

“I love you, too.”

She runs to him and he catches her in his arms, holding her in a way that feels painful. She’s scared. Fisk is dangerous. He has hands everywhere. He knows what he’s doing, and that’s the difference between him and Peter.

She doesn’t want to fight anymore, so she holds back from trying one more time to convince Peter because she knows she can’t.

“I love you,” he repeats like he’s sharing the same feeling in his gut that she’s had since their date ended.

“I love you too,” she says, mouth pressed against his shoulder. She kisses it.

She’s crying again, and he kisses her cheek softly right where the tears fall.

“Um,” he says. “I–I know that this doesn’t fix-“

“It’s okay.”

“I know there are parts of us that feel broken.”

Those parts will always feel broken when you’re dating a superhero.

“I like it better broken,” she says.

He smiles. “I’ll see you soon, my love.”

“Go get 'em, tiger,” she whispers.

Then, she sees him slip outside of their window, flying away, something in her heart telling her that this is all wrong, that she wishes that time actually stopped instead of feeling that way, their twisted love story never being anything like her romantic fantasies.

But she’s okay with it because she’ll always love Peter, through thick and thin, through sickness and health, ’til death does them part.

Only, hours through the night, when her phone alerts scream something dangerous, something wrong, she wishes she had the chance to tell him that.

Because she turns her TV on, and the breaking news proves everything she wishes she was never right about, proves that with Peter and MJ, running out of time was never something that could be stopped.

-

-

-

-

-

BREAKING NEWS:

NEW YORK’S HERO, SPIDER-MAN, FOUND DEAD AT 26.


End file.
